


And all I have to do is think of her

by riversdamsel



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, So much fluff you may die, i'm warning you now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3092702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riversdamsel/pseuds/riversdamsel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red reminds him of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And all I have to do is think of her

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Something by the Beatles

He’s never been one to consciously notice one color over any other.  Never really had a favorite except to give an answer to the common small talk question- though he supposes now that he’s the Doctor he should closely consider attaching himself to that brilliant blue.

 

It’s a very nice blue.  Bright.  TARDIS-y.  The color should hold a special place for him, but it’s suddenly the furthest color from his mind when _she_ walks in for their first read through of _Time of Angels_.

 

She’s glorious.  Her hair is a pile of wild curls on her head, her loose blouse does nothing to cover curves that are sure to distract him on a near constant basis, and her green eyes sparkle with laughter as he spills his tea in haste to introduce himself.

 

Her greeting ignores the tea and comes with a kiss to the cheek that leaves his skin tingling.  When she pulls away, he notices that her lips are painted the most beautiful, sinful color of red.

 

It’s not until later that evening does he glance in a mirror and see the faded red of her lipstick still on his cheek.  He grins and thinks he could easily favor red over blue.

 

XxX

 

The shoes are red.

 

Red and shiny and currently hanging from the TARDIS scanner.  Karen fawns over them, petting them with reverence and exclaiming that she wishes her feet were a bit smaller so she could try them on.

 

“Would be better you than me, honey,” Alex comments with a chuckle as she enters set from costuming, “I don’t know what they’re thinking, putting me in those bloody things.”

 

“You’re going to look great in them,” he immediately blurts, his face heating a bit as Karen gives him an amused look and Alex turns to him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk- _and_ _holy hell what has costuming put her in?_

 

He feels his eyes widen as he takes in her costume for the first time, a black dress that looks wonderfully soft to the touch, clinging to her curves and completed with a neckline that is low enough to have him staring.

 

Doing his best to drag his gaze from her figure to her face, he stutters out, “Not-not that you don’t look great _not_ in them, cause I mean you do!  Look great in that, I mean.”  He gestures weakly at her form, her smirk growing as his brain flounders for something to say to make this less embarrassing as he continues, “But I mean you look great in everything else, too!  And nothing.  Not that I know!  I just mean, probably.  Well I mean not _probably_ because look at you, but-”

 

“Well maybe _just_ the shoes and nothing else, then?”  She suggests it with an amused smirk as she turns to inspect the console, mercifully putting him out of his self-inflicted misery.

 

Karen is silently laughing at him and he glares, feeling the blush all the way down to his neck.

 

The next day when he watches her strut about set, the red of her shoes flashing as the hem dances around them, the images of her in those red heels and nothing else is all he can think of.

 

XxX

 

At the read through for _The Pandorica Opens_ , he immediately notices her nails are painted a brilliant red.

 

The polish is smooth, perfectly applied to her nails and has a shine that distracts him for the entire session.  He notices their silent drumming on the table as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth, concentrating as others read.  He watches the red become brief streaks in the air as she gestures with her hands as she delivers her lines.  When it comes his turn to read a line, he watches out of the corner of his eye as she bites on a red-painted thumbnail, becoming sufficiently distracted and his words trailing off as he turns to outright stare.

 

After a moment, Alex glances up at him, her brow furrowed adorably in confusion and he quickly looks away.  He forces a light laugh and apologizes to the room, giving some excuse about wanting to deliver it in a different way before restarting his line.

 

The next morning he enters costuming to find her bent over her nails, preparing to remove the polish.  With a horrified gasp he rushes over and forces himself in the space next to her on the small settee.  Rescuing her nails from the fate of being changed to a different color, he grasps her hand protectively in both of his own.

 

“You’re committing a crime, Kingston,” he states in a serious tone, giving her a slight frown.

 

“Good morning to you, too, darling,” Alex responds in deadpan, though he can see how she’s repressing a smile.

 

Ignoring her greeting, he pouts, though he is inwardly pleased that she makes no attempt to remove her hand from his grasp.  “Why are you changing the color?”

 

“River doesn’t have red fingernails in this episode.”

 

“Oh.  Right.”  He releases her hand and isn’t at all surprised when he finds himself wishing that he could hold her hand just because.

 

She gives him a smile that makes his heart leap, a warm, fond smile as she asks, “Why does it matter?”

 

He shrugs.  “I just like red.”  Though he knows it has nothing to do with the color itself and everything to do with the woman wearing it.

 

XxX

 

Doctor Who in America.  Utah, to be exact, and he’s beyond excited.  It is vast and gorgeous in its own unique way, and he becomes even more thrilled when he realizes Las Vegas is just next door in the neighboring state of Nevada.

 

After the first week of filming they are given the weekend off and he knows exactly how he wants to spend it.  Friday night he knocks on the door to Alex’s room, weakly convincing himself that he’s inviting only her because _surely_ Karen and Arthur would prefer sleep to an adventure, definitely _not_ because he wants Alex just to himself.  Somehow, he’s fine with lying to himself.

 

When she opens the door, he jingles stolen keys to the vintage, red car that is being used for filming, and he is delighted that she takes no convincing to join him.  Ten minutes later they find themselves running from the lobby of the hotel to where the car is parked, giggling like school children as they hurriedly climb into the seats.

 

Having temporarily forgotten that the steering wheel is on the opposite side in American cars, he looks to Alex who is smiling smugly at him and holds her hand out for the keys.

 

“No way, Kingston.  This was _my_ idea.”  He pouts, clutching them protectively to his chest.

 

“Yes but _I’m_ the one with an American driving license, darling.”

 

“We’re stealing a car! I doubt licenses are going to be at the top of the list if we’re pulled over.”

 

“Well as long as I’m the one doing the driving, we _won’t_ get pulled over.”

 

He believes her.  He really does.  Right up until he actually concedes and they’re flying down the road with a squeal of the tires, leaving the lone hotel far behind them.

 

“Kingston!”  He cries, making a show of gripping onto the handle above his window and clinging to it as if her speed is terrifying him.

 

She laughs, stalling what would have been faux protestations as he looks over at her.  The window is rolled down, her already untamed curls whipping in every direction as if they have come to life.  He can see the exhilaration in her eyes, the curve of her mouth, and he finds himself yet again in a position where not staring would be damn near impossible.

 

She pulls her eyes from the road long enough to give him a mischievous grin.  “Buckle up, Clyde.  We have almost three hundred miles to go.”

 

Going the legal speed they could have made it in four hours.  Going _her_ speed, they could have made it in far less.  They make it in five.

 

They pull over, not because they were caught going an outrageous speed or because there were complications with the car, but because Alex chooses to do so for them.

 

“What’re we doing?”  He asks while she hops out of the car.  Sighing, she leans down to fix him with a playful glare through the open window.  “Just get out of the car, Matthew.”

 

As he does so, he watches as she climbs onto the bonnet of the car and reclines there as if it were her own personal throne.  He joins her when she impatiently beckons him to sit beside her.  “What’re we doing?”  He asks again once he’s fully situated, the whole right side of her body pressed flush up against his left.  His voice is but a whisper, the night air almost seeming fragile in its silence.

 

Instead of answering, she places her index finger under his chin and gently tilts his face up.  For a moment he can only continue to stare at her, his heart racing as he wants nothing more than to grab her hand and pull her impossibly closer.

 

Swallowing, he banishes the idea and finally trains his eyes on the sky above him.  The sight makes him gasp, the inky night sky dotted with pinpricks of shining white light.  Without the lights of a city nearby the stars here are nothing short of breathtaking.

 

He doesn’t know how long he continues to stare, time feeling as if it has decided to simply cease to exist in this moment.  He knows that each star he can see is incredibly far away, each further than the sun itself, but something about laying on a car in the middle of the desert next to the only person he wants to be here with makes him feel like he could just reach up and touch them.  Just sweep them out of the space they inhabit and capture them in a jar for later. 

 

“Do you know any constellations?”  Her whisper pulls him from his thoughts.

 

“Um,” he squints at the sky, “There’s definitely one in this area right here.”  He gestures vaguely and she raises an eyebrow at him.  “Oh really?  What is it?”

 

“It’s um.  Erm.  Jupiter’s…Juniper’s…er…shoe.  Yes.”

 

“Juniper’s Shoe?”  Her tone conveys disbelief, and when he looks at her he finds she’s wearing a smirk to match.

 

He huffs.  “I don’t like your tone, Kingston.  I’m trying to educate you here.”

 

The smirk grows.  “Oh well by all means, _educate me_ , Mr. Smith.”

 

Ignoring the shivers that the purr in her voice sends across his skin, he weaves a tale for his made up constellation, increasing the ridiculousness of his story as he goes just to hear her laugh.

 

Sitting on top of a red car, making up one constellation after the other, Alex’s head on his shoulder, he thinks that he could care less about making it to Vegas.

 

XxX

 

The first thing he notices when she opens the door is that her eyes are rimmed red.  She sniffles and offers a quiet greeting of “Oh, hi,” causing him to falter in asking her to dinner at a restaurant he may or may not have booked weeks ago.

 

“Alex…” He starts, hands hovering in the air between them, not quite sure what to do as she avoids looking directly at him.

 

“Is there something you need, Matt?”  Her voice is tired and he sags at the sight of her looking so incredibly sad.  He wants to ask her what’s wrong, shake her until she gives him an answer so he can go pummel the person who rendered her to this state.

 

But he doesn’t, pasting on a cheery smile and opting to give her privacy instead. “Actually I was just…um,” he flails a bit, “I’m pretty knackered actually, so I’m just going to, uh, go.”  He gestures in the direction of his temporary flat just down the hall.

 

He takes a half-step in that direction before stopping and leaning in to press a kiss to the top of her head, briefly squeezing her hand to try to convey that if she needs anything, she knows where to find him.

 

In the morning he gets to set early, a muffin from Alex’s favorite local café in one hand and her favorite tea in the other.  “Morning, Kingston!”  He greets her cheerily, and when she turns to face him, a return greeting on her lips, there is no sign on her face that reflects the sadness there he saw he previous night.

 

She delights over the muffin and the coffee, but before she can run off, he gently grabs her arm and tries to search her face more thoroughly.  “Alright, Kingston?”

 

She considers him for a moment and then smiles, “I’m perfect, darling.”

 

Before slipping into the makeup trailer she hugs him tightly, whispering, “Thank you.”

 

He knows that it is thanks for not prying into her business, thanks for giving her privacy, and as he returns the hug he can only hope that he will never see her eyes that red again.

 

XxX

 

For some reason, everything seems to look just a bit fuzzy.  And it’s hot.  Why is it so bloody hot?

 

Sitting at the picnic table during lunch break and ignoring his egg and cress sandwich, he finds that he’s been staring off into space for the better part of a half-hour when Alex suddenly fills his vision.

 

“Get up.”

 

He blinks at her.  “What?”

 

“I’ve spoken with the director and he’s rescheduling the rest of today’s shoot to Saturday.  I’m taking you home.”

 

“What?!”  He shoot to his feet, gripping the edge of the picnic table when his vision swims for a brief moment.  “Why would you do that?!”

 

“You are sick, Matthew!  You need medicine and you need to get better and if you don’t take care of yourself then it will get only get worse and then they’ll have to reschedule _more_ days and-” She stops abruptly and huffs at him.  “You know what?  I’m not having this conversation with you.  Either you can willing go with me or I will drag your skinny arse home myself.”

 

Blinking at her, he briefly entertains the idea that she resembles a lion when she’s angry- all manic hair and fierce eyes.

 

She grabs his hand when he doesn’t move, pulling him with her to her car.  When they arrive at his flat, she pushes him onto his bed with a bottle of cold medicine and orders him to stay put.

 

Fifteen minutes later she returns, bearing hot soup and wrapped in her red fuzzy robe.  She makes him eat despite his protests of not being hungry, watching him through narrowed eyes until the bowl is empty.

 

“Now get some sleep and don’t forgot to take more medicine when you wake up.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

She rolls her eyes.  “Don’t be cheeky.”

 

“M’not being cheeky.”

 

She snorts, and he watches as she stands and gathers his bowl and prepares to turn out the light.

 

“I like red,” he states, absently thinking that he should just shut his mouth now that the effects of the medicine have kicked in.

 

She raises an eyebrow at him, obviously having not followed his train of thought.

 

“Your robe is red.  I like red.”

 

She represses a smile.  “That’s nice, dear.”

 

It’s his turn to huff.  “Don’t you want to know _why_ I like red?”

 

Leaning against the doorway, she grins as she indulges him.  “Why do you like red, darling?”

 

“It reminds me of you.”

 

The last thing he sees before sleep takes him is her amused smirk softening and turning into a fond smile.

 

XxX

 

He wakes to morning sun filtering through the window and a warm, bare body pressed against his side.  A smile blooms across his face when he registers curls tickling his face and the weight of her arm draped across his waist.

 

She stayed.  He wasn’t sure if she would, afraid that he might wake up to an empty bed and an empty heart, but _she stayed_.

 

It began with a heated a kiss he still wasn’t sure who started, then turned into missing bits of clothing, then _no_ clothing, then skin on skin and whispers of _don’t stop_ and _yes there_ accompanied by breathy whimpers, moans, cries, until everything was indistinguishable except for the feeling of pure bliss.

 

He had gotten so caught up in it all that he didn’t clarify that he didn’t want just a _night_.

 

Glancing down at her form, his grin widens as he takes in the red marks that were made with his lips and randomly appear all over her skin- her neck, her breasts, her inner thighs.  He thinks that when she wakes he’ll revisit those very spots and make it clear to her that what he wants is forever.

 

XxX

 

Her dress is red.  Red and soft and with a neckline low enough that it may actually kill him.

 

“Do we _have_ to go?”  He stares unabashedly at her bum from his viewpoint in the doorway as she leans forward toward the mirror to put in her earrings.

 

She looks at him through the mirror, her face one of disbelief.  “You’ve won an award and you don’t want to go _get it_?”

 

He grins.  “I was just thinking that your dress would look much better on the floor, and that sounds like much more fun than some ridiculous ceremony.”

 

Turning to face him, he drops his teasing when he sees her worrying her lip.  “We don’t really _have_ to go.  If you don’t want to.”

 

He frowns at her.  They’ve not yet made their relationship public, but tonight is it.  He’s taking her to this event as _his_.  He’s going to keep his arm around her waist or her hand in his.  He’s going to kiss her whenever he wants and show her off to the world.

 

Matt pulls her into him and brushes his lips across her brow, trying to erase her nerves.  “We’re going.”

 

Alex smiles up at him.  “Good.  Because I got you something.”  She slips past him and comes back with a red silk tie in her hands.

 

He beams as she lifts the collar of his shirt and loops it over his neck.  “Red?”

 

She grins back.  “It’s your favorite color, isn’t it?”

 

Leaning down to kiss her he thinks yes, it most definitely is.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm looking for prompts (Matt/Alex or Eleven/River) so if you leave me one I will love you forever no doubt (:


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